the moon would draw it to herself, and the travelers thus attain
their end; or that the projectile, held in one immutable orbit,
would gravitate around the lunar disc to all eternity.
With such alternatives, what would be the fate of the travelers?
Certainly they had food for some time. But supposing they did
succeed in their rash enterprise, how would they return?
Could they ever return? Should they hear from them?
These questions, debated by the most learned pens of the day,
strongly engrossed the public attention.
It is advisable here to make a remark which ought to be well
considered by hasty observers. When a purely speculative
discovery is announced to the public, it cannot be done with too
much prudence. No one is obliged to discover either a planet,
a comet, or a satellite; and whoever makes a mistake in such a
case exposes himself justly to the derision of the mass.
Far better is it to wait; and that is what the impatient Joseph
T. Maston should have done before sending this telegram forth to
the world, which, according to his idea, told the whole result
of the enterprise. Indeed this telegram contained two sorts of
errors, as was proved eventually. First, errors of observation,
concerning the distance of the projectile from the surface of
the moon, for on the 11th of December it was impossible to see
it; and what Joseph T. Maston had seen, or thought he saw, could
not have been the projectile of the Columbiad. Second, errors of
theory on the fate in store for the said projectile; for in making
it a satellite of the moon, it was putting it in direct
contradiction of all mechanical laws.
One single hypothesis of the observers of Long’s Peak could ever
be realized, that which foresaw the case of the travelers (if
still alive) uniting their efforts with the lunar attraction to
attain the surface of the disc.
Now these men, as clever as they were daring, had survived the
terrible shock consequent on their departure, and it is their
journey in the projectile car which is here related in its most
dramatic as well as in its most singular details. This recital
will destroy many illusions and surmises; but it will give a
true idea of the singular changes in store for such an
enterprise; it will bring out the scientific instincts of
Barbicane, the industrious resources of Nicholl, and the
audacious humor of Michel Ardan. Besides this, it will prove
that their worthy friend, Joseph T. Maston, was wasting his
time, while leaning over the gigantic telescope he watched the
course of the moon through the starry space.
CHAPTER I
TWENTY MINUTES PAST TEN TO FORTY-SEVEN MINUTES PAST TEN P. M.
As ten o’clock struck, Michel Ardan, Barbicane, and Nicholl,
took leave of the numerous friends they were leaving on the earth.
The two dogs, destined to propagate the canine race on the lunar
continents, were already shut up in the projectile.
The three travelers approached the orifice of the enormous
cast-iron tube, and a crane let them down to the conical top of
the projectile. There, an opening made for the purpose gave
them access to the aluminum car. The tackle belonging to the
crane being hauled from outside, the mouth of the Columbiad was
instantly disencumbered of its last supports.
Nicholl, once introduced with his companions inside the
projectile, began to close the opening by means of a strong
plate, held in position by powerful screws. Other plates,
closely fitted, covered the lenticular glasses, and the
travelers, hermetically enclosed in their metal prison, were
plunged in profound darkness.
“And now, my dear companions,” said Michel Ardan, “let us
make ourselves at home; I am a domesticated man and strong
in housekeeping. We are bound to make the best of our new
lodgings, and make ourselves comfortable. And first let us
try and see a little. Gas was not invented for moles.”
So saying, the thoughtless fellow lit a match by striking it on
the sole of his boot; and approached the burner fixed to the
receptacle, in which the carbonized hydrogen, stored at high
pressure, sufficed for the lighting and warming of the